


Hearth's Warmth from Butterfly Touches

by LenoirWhittlethorn



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenoirWhittlethorn/pseuds/LenoirWhittlethorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of prompts I fulfilled on Tumblr. The theme of these prompts was "Non-sexual intimacy", which was a nice challenge and some nice results were had!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fenris wearing Marian Hawke's clothes

Not even Hawke’s closet held any intimidation when Fenris opened it. He wasn’t expecting a skeleton or demon shoved in there, but he thought there’d be something that would show a different angle of Hawke. The closet was filled with clothes that defined her, which made him a little unsettled. She was truthful throughout all their conversations, their banter, and various discussions. No ulterior motive, no facade, save for the onslaught of sarcastic remarks.

 

There wasn’t a dress in sight.

 

Fenris smirked to himself. ‘ _ That’s Hawke. _ ’ He eyed a simple leather armor set and raised an eyebrow. It was well kept and the fur covered shoulder pads looked so soft. He looked over his shoulder and didn’t see the bedroom door crack open. Hawke had shut the door behind her after Uncle Gamlen shouted obnoxiously that he wanted to talk to her. 

 

He put a hand on one of the shoulders and was pleased that his expectations were met. It was a bit small for Hawke and an idea rose to the forefront of his mind. ‘ _ I wonder if it’ll fit. _ ’ He looked over his shoulder once more and he could still pick up the angry buzzing from the lower level. ‘ _ Just the top. _ ’ He told himself and carefully removed the leather armor from the closet. 

 

It wasn’t going to simply slide over his own armor. Fenris shook his head at himself for thinking that it would, but as he laid the armor on Hawke’s bed, his desire to wear it only increased. The design screamed Ferelden with its combination of browns and grays. He was half expecting a Mabari stitched into the left breast. Still, it seemed so inviting, much like Hawke’s grin. 

 

‘ _ Venhedis. _ ’ Fenris began taking off his armor, his hands automatically knowing what to do. Unlike with Hawke’s armor, Fenris tossed his armor onto the bed without much of a thought. It was old, sturdy, and endured far worse than being thrown on a bed. It was him. 

 

The gauntlets came next, because the last thing he wanted to do was damage the well kept armor. They clattered after striking the armor, but Fenris barely took notice. He stood still, realizing that what he was doing was dangerous somehow. He even tried digging up any ounce of tension or wariness, but he just couldn’t. Not in Hawke’s home. 

 

He was comfortable.

 

Well, now he was chilled from being exposed for so long. The leather armor was made for warriors and Fenris was relieved that it wasn’t hard to put on. ‘ _ Definitely a rich family’s armor _ .’ Fenris noted as the soft cotton lining brushed his bare skin. He clenched his jaw, this armor had different material, which meant his markings weren’t going to respond well. Taking a deep breath, Fenris focused on how cozy the armor felt. 

 

A low, soft whistle came from the bedroom doorway and Fenris whipped his head to see Hawke grinning at him. “You should wear my clothes more often.” Marian teased and rushed up to Fenris when he tried getting out of the leather armor. “It’s alright, Fenris!” She reassured and tried making eye contact with him. 

 

“I apologize, there’s no excuse for this behavior.” Fenris couldn’t look at Hawke and he could feel the red spread all over his face. “I’ll remove it, just let me go.” He dared to look up at Marian and shook his head when all he saw was amusement in her bright blue eyes. “How can you not be furious?” He seethed.

 

“Because you look  _ good _ , Fenris.” Hawke lightly brushed her thumbs over Fenris’ exposed knuckles. “Very good.”

 

“You can’t be serious.” He sighed in exasperation; this woman made no sense. 

 

“I never can be, you know that.” Hawke quipped and released his hands. “We just need to make some adjustments, huh, you’re more petite than when I was thirteen.” She laughed when Fenris glared at her. “I’m sure you make up for it.” She added in a lower tone.

 

Fenris scoffed and tugged on some of the leather straps that lined the upper left side. “Why are there so many straps here and on the other side?” He griped and froze when Hawke stepped closer to touch the small straps. 

 

“That’s to adjust the bust size.” Hawke muttered and grinned wickedly when Fenris looked at the doorway, as if he were ready to bolt any second from this embarrassing predicament. “Don’t worry, I hear all late bloomers get the biggest jugs.” 

 

At any other house, with any other person, Fenris would’ve sneered or worse. But here, with Hawke, in her comfortable home, in her comfortable armor, Fenris’ mouth twitched. He began laughing, which stunned Hawke into a pleasant silence. Once he stopped laughing, Fenris cleared his throat and made eye contact with Hawke. 

  
They smiled at each other. 


	2. Sharing a bed (Fenris/Ophelia Hawke)

“What are you doing?” Marian’s voice hitched, as if she were caught between two sensations.

 

Fenris raised an eyebrow, the nervousness in his stomach burning away with confusion. “You want me in bed, correct?” He was already without his chestplate and gauntlets and was going to remove his pants. 

 

Marian coughed and closed her eyes to regain her composure. “Y-yes, but not for...that.” She watched Fenris trying to process her answer. “Unless you always sleep naked.” She smirked, attempting to ease the increasingly awkward situation.

 

There was no response, just a pair of hazel eyes analyzing her. 

 

“I just wanted to take a nap, Fenris. After that last mission in Dark Town, I’m tired.” Marian confessed, her tone lowering to a near whisper. 

 

“You only want to nap?” Fenris looked at the bed, not seeing the connection. 

 

All his life, it was either he slept alone or he was forcibly made to be in someone’s bed. Fenris stared up at Hawke, realizing that once again, Danarius ruined another aspect of his life. He bit his inner cheek, shame spreading over him like cloak. 

 

Marian witnessed Fenris’ shoulders sink. “I’m sorry, Fenris. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” She stood awkwardly on her side of the bed, waiting for an answer.

 

“Get into bed.” Fenris growled, unable to look at Hawke. 

 

“When you put it that way,” Marian mumbled. She slipped under the covers, grateful that the sheets were cool to the touch. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t find Fenris’ command arousing; his voice did things to her. The weariness behind her eyes quelled any smoldering passions and she sighed after resting her head on her large pillow. 

 

The bed creaked, indicating that Fenris was hesitantly making himself comfortable. Marian had her back turned to him, her body rigid as she waited for Fenris to settle. A slight chill hit her back when Fenris lifted the bed sheets and her diaphragm seized up at his decision. 

 

There was a heavy layer of tension in the air, making Marian incapable of shutting her eyes.  _ ‘Screw this, I need to fall asleep. _ ’ She huffed and in one motion, she rolled over onto her left side, only to bump into Fenris’ front. Marian heard him grunt softly and she chuckled out of nervousness.

 

“Hello, stranger. What brings you over here?” She whispered; she had no idea why she was whispering, it seemed appropriate. 

 

“I...I’m taking up too much room, aren’t I?” Fenris muttered, his face darkening with tinges of red. “I can move further back, if you want.” 

 

“Stay.” Marian reached out and cupped Fenris’ face. “You can take up as much space as you need.”

 

Fenris searched the pair of bright blue eyes, trying to find any hidden perversion of what was said. He choked, realizing that there wasn’t lust in Hawke’s eyes, rather something that he dared to not even name in his consciousness. Then he noted how exhausted she appeared and he wondered how well she slept at night. 

 

Without a word, Fenris shifted so that he was laying on his back. He motioned for Hawke to come closer and he almost snorted when she scrambled to get into the crook of his arm. However, she cautiously rested her head on his chest and he realized she was trying not to hurt him or make him feel uneasy. He swallowed and kept his eyes focused on one of the bedposts. 

 

“Thank you.” Marian mumbled and allowed her eyelids to sink. 

 

All Fenris could do was hum a response. He struggled with the stillness in the bedroom, the gentleness of Hawke’s breaths and the warmth. A new fear rooted itself into his heart as he felt his own eyelids droop. 

 

A life without Hawke would be colder than death.

 


	3. Head Scratches (Fenris and Ophelia Hawke)

For being such huge enemies, the Tal-Vashoth fell in a chorus of soft thuds. Ophelia began slowing down her heavy breathing as she sheathed her daggers. Another fight won and with minimal damage. She glanced at Varric and smirked as he doted over Bianca, then she looked over at Aveline, who was wiping the blood off of her longsword. 

 

When Ophelia turned her attention to Fenris, however, she did a double-take. He had his back to her, occupied with one of the corpses, but somehow during the scuffle a type of cowlick formed on the back of his head. She choked back her laughter and instead began sneaking up on her unsuspecting lover. 

 

She stood somewhat to the side of Fenris, making sure her right arm was out of his peripheral. “You feeling alright?” She chirped. “Nothing out of place?”

Fenris, without missing a beat, replied with heavy sarcasm. “I might have broken a nail.” He never removed his eyes from the dead Tal-Vashoth, which suited Ophelia just fine.

 

“Aw, sorry to hear that.” Ophelia said in mock pity and figured it was now or never. She placed her palm gently on the back of Fenris’ head and lightly scratched it. ‘ _ It’s almost like downy feathers. _ ’ Ophelia thought, amused. 

 

A strange sound came from the back of Fenris’ throat; something between a growl and moan. He became aware of the sound he made and ducked away. “What was that for?” He demanded as Varric and Aveline eyed him with shock. 

 

Ophelia kept her hand in mid-air, her mind still stuck on the sound Fenris made. “You...had some hair sticking up so I figured I’d smooth it out.” She said wistfully. 

 

“I think you did something more than smooth out Broody’s hair, Hawke.” Varric chuckled when Fenris glared at him. 

 

“Why Fenris, I’ve never seen such a shade of red on your face before.” Aveline sang and grinned as Fenris turned his head away. 

 

“Shouldn’t we be telling the Viscount about this incident?” Fenris snapped. 

 

Varric shared a glance with Ophelia and mouthed, “We’ll go ahead”. He then motioned for Aveline to follow him, which she complied without question. 

 

Ophelia stood for a few moments longer, waiting for Fenris to lash out or do something. He remained stiff, his eyes hidden by his hair. Knowing that Fenris would always follow behind, Ophelia turned and began walking away. 

 

“Wait.” Fenris called out.

 

The rogue stopped immediately and she turned around. She didn’t say a word when Fenris came to her side and stared at her for a while. Ophelia raised an eyebrow when Fenris cleared his throat and looked at the ground.

 

“I would appreciate it if you never did that again in public, Hawke.” Fenris said and made brief eye contact with Ophelia. 

 

“I’m sorry, Fenris.” Ophelia replied softly and smiled at him. 

 

“In public.” Fenris emphasized with a lower tone of voice.

 

Ophelia patted Fenris head and grinned. “Oh, I heard you the first time.” She answered huskily and trotted off to regroup with Varric and Aveline. 

 

Leaving Fenris with a wolfish smile. 


	4. Patching up a Wound (Fenris and Ophelia Hawke)

She got sloppy, that was the problem. Ophelia balled her hands into fists as she watched Fenris remove his armor, revealing all the fresh wounds he received from their last battle. She should’ve been aware that it was a High Dragon, that it would have dozens of offspring in its lair. It was a long, arduous battle, but they were able to slay the dragon. 

 

Aveline grumbled about how she was going to need new armor and Varric miraculously had only a couple scratches. Fenris, however, suffered from deep gashes and everyone rushed to him after seeing a small pool of blood at his feet. The poultices helped some, but when everyone split up in Kirkwall, Fenris continued to stagger. 

 

Ophelia couldn’t leave him alone in his dank mansion, so here she was, volunteering to patch him up. What surprised her the most was how little Fenris resisted her insistence to help him. Now that they were alone, Ophelia could feel it, the air of melancholy that hovered around him. It was different from many years ago, when she first met him. The melancholy didn’t have the sharp sting of outrage, it was a dull weariness and Ophelia couldn’t comprehend which one was worse to sense. 

 

She watched how the fireplace’s warm light flickered against Fenris’s toned figure and she was thankful that the place was so dimly lit to hide her flush. It had been years since they spent the night together and only now did they start speaking to each other. 

 

And then she failed to protect him. She let him get hurt again.

 

“Hawke? Are you alright?” Fenris winced from turning around and his hands quickly went over to the gash over his right side. 

 

“I’m not the one bleeding.” She retorted and approached him. “Can you sit on that stool?” Ophelia gently cupped his left elbow and led him towards the dinky wooden stool. 

 

Fenris nodded, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. 

 

Once he was seated, Ophelia opened up her backpack and dug out the necessary medical supplies. She sat on the stool next to him and took a deep breath. “It may hurt a little.” She advised. He grunted and looked away.

Ophelia lightly tapped his left arm and he lifted it high enough for her to see the wound. The gash was several inches long and was deep enough for blood to pool within the crevice, but it didn’t need stitches. She picked up the jar that she had nestled in between her legs and opened it, causing both her and Fenris to gag simultaneously. 

 

The thick, green cream was cool to the touch as Ophelia scooped some out. She lightly brushed her coated fingers over the wound, somewhat enjoying Fenris jolting from the cold cream. His skin was on fire and when she applied another coat, her mind wandered. She remembered that same heat, that same spot, on her lips. 

 

It was so long ago.

 

‘ _ Focus. _ ’ Ophelia reprimanded herself and she went to grab a strip of clean white cloth. 

 

“What is that concoction?” Fenris crinkled his nose while Ophelia plastered the bandage on. 

 

“Mother’s recipe. Carver kept getting banged up and,” Ophelia paused, realization flooding into her mind. “A-after Father died...she had to make due somehow.” She watched Fenris slowly lower his arm so that he could look at her. ‘ _ They’re all dead now. _ ’ She made eye contact with Fenris briefly before she looked down at his arm. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t fast enough, Fenris.” 

 

“We all had our hands full. I was sluggish and the dragon wasn’t, it’s as simple as that.” Fenris stated nonchalantly and held out his left arm further. “If you would be so kind, Hawke.” He softened his tone and kept his eyes fixated on Ophelia’s face.

 

“You always know how to make things clearer, Fenris.” Ophelia complimented gently and applied the cream on the four inch long gash on the warrior’s arm. She let her hand linger on Fenris’s arm, feeling the heat and the strength. 

 

“Not all things.” He murmured, pain accenting each word.

 

Ophelia closed her eyes and sighed deeply before opening them again. She removed her hand from his arm and fumbled with the clean cloth a couple times before successfully laying it flat against his skin. There was nothing she could say in regards to such a small, impactful statement. It had been so long ago, she believed it was only an intense dream. Her trembling hands contradicted that theory. 

 

“The, uh, best thing to do now is not move too quickly. I’m not going to need your assistance for a few days, anyway.” Ophelia sealed up the jar and used one of the spare cloths to wipe her fingers. 

 

“Just you, Aveline, and Varric?” Fenris shook his head. “There should always be four.” 

 

Despite the well of bittersweet memories drowning her heart, Ophelia smiled at Fenris’s concern. “There’s Merrill and Anders, you know.” She chuckled when he shot her a look of disgust.

 

“You’re better off having two rabid wolves by your side.” Fenris grumbled.

 

Ophelia shook her head and stood up to put away her stuff in her backpack. “Rest up, Fenris, otherwise I won’t sleep well at night.” The words were meant to be a tease, but as they came out, they sank hard in between them. 

 

“I will, for your sake.” Fenris looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Ophelia.” 

 

Nothing could come out of Ophelia’s mouth, so she only smiled before turning on her heel to leave. She felt his eyes following her, the intense heat that she had craved for so many years. ‘ _ Or it was because you were by the blasted fireplace. _ ’ She reasoned bitterly and slammed the mansion door behind her harder than intended. ‘ _ After all that has happened, there’s no way… _ ’ Ophelia glanced up at the starry sky, her heart aching. ‘ _ I don’t want to believe that there may be something...good. _ ’ 

 

Her heart thudded tiny prayers of hope though. 

 


	5. Playing with each other's hair (Selena Lavellan and Cullen Rutherford)

A low snarl slithered up from the depths of Selena’s gut as she sifted through a crate delivered to her chambers. There were so many of them, of various shapes, colors, textures, and supposed styles. ‘ _ What does Blackwall always say? ‘Only the Orlesians would…’ Sounds about right. _ ’ Selena thought and flipped the crate over, spilling the contents all over her bed.

 

Ribbons. Countless, worthless ribbons!

 

The red-headed Inquisitor put her hands on her hips, her blood simmering with irritation. “Maybe it’s not too late to start a war with Orlais.” She grumbled out loud.

 

“I’d advise against that, Inquisitor.” Cullen said as he approached Selena. He smiled, despite Selena still wearing a deep scowl. “What did those Orlesians do now?” Cullen raised an eyebrow when Selena stepped aside, revealing the hill of various ribbons. 

 

“People are dying, Cullen, and those damned prissy, mask-wearing…” Selena shut her eyes and shook her head. She looked up at Cullen, her brows furrowed. “This crate could’ve been supplies or food or blankets, but all they care about is bits of frivolous cloth?” She kept her hands on her hips while watching Cullen pick up a few ribbons. 

 

“They’re hair ribbons, Selena.” He gently mused.

 

“So? I never wore them and I don’t need them.” Selena huffed.

 

“Never? Not even as a little girl?” Cullen sifted through a dozen more ribbons, frowning at a couple of white ones. 

 

Drawn in by Cullen’s focused expression, Selena relaxed and stepped beside him, lightly brushing her hand over some of the lacy ribbons. “No, we merely braid and twist our hair up, or if need be, we tie our hair with twine. Nothing...like this.” She explained and noticed Cullen picked out a few. “Those aren’t too hideous.” Then something dawned on her and she took a step back from the commander.

 

“You should at least try--” Cullen smirked when Selena shook her head.

 

“No, I am not wearing ribbons in my hair. I don’t even know how they work.” Selena crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Cullen. 

 

The commander laughed, which made Selena’s heart flutter, but she had a battle to win. She kept up her scowling, even when Cullen closed the distance.

 

“Fortunately, I have an idea on how they work.” The blonde warrior muttered.

 

Selena rolled her eyes and glanced at the pile of ribbons. “Of course you would.” She scoffed. 

 

Her mouth twitched when Cullen remained in front of her, his warm, brown eyes crumbling any semblance of will she had left. With a heavy sigh, Selena gave Cullen a defeated look and motioned at him to proceed with his idea. For some reason, he didn’t immediately reach out to her, rather he cleared his throat. 

 

“May I touch your hair?” He turned slightly pink, making Selena snort.

 

“You may, Commander.” She chuckled while Cullen walked over to her right side and began holding up each individual ribbon against her hair. “I’m guessing your sister is responsible for your unique knowledge?”

 

Cullen chuckled. “More or less. Do you mind holding these, I’m going to need both hands.” He handed over the ribbons to Selena. 

She lightly thumbed the strips of fabric, noting that Cullen had a good eye for color. The only warm color that he picked out was yellow, the rest were various shades of blue and she closed her eyes. She remembered before they confessed their attraction towards each other; how often she’d catch him looking at her. The war table made it blatantly obvious; whenever she glanced up at Cullen, he’d tumble with his words.

 

His hands didn’t falter as they gently combed through her hair, though when he went to pull back her hair from her scarred cheek, Selena flinched. His touch was gone in seconds. “I’m sorry, did I hit you?” 

 

Selena scoffed, it was barely a touch and yet she still reacted. She knew what a hit felt like. “You’re fine, Cullen. Just not used to having my hair played with.” She coaxed and relaxed when he resumed his gentle strokes.  

 

There was a moment when she thought he was done because he held her hair so delicately. As if her hair were spun gold. It was hard for Selena to believe that a grown man, a warrior, a commander was softly tutting to himself while tying a ribbon into her hair. The only time men touched her hair was when they fiercely grabbed fistfuls of it. But this tenderness was making her spine tingle much more. 

 

“Well, it’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do.” Cullen stepped back, his head tilted to the side. “I tied it too loose, that’s the problem.” He went to fix it, but Selena waved him away.

 

“I want to see first.” Selena grinned and jogged over to her dresser where a medium sized mirror rested. 

 

Selena’s grin shrank to a smirk as she saw the pale yellow bow in her hair. She wasn’t used to her scars being so prominent and slight annoyance stirred in her belly. Her past always found a way to dampen the cheery present.

 

Cullen appeared behind her, his hands fidgeting like little birds before he finally rested them on the hilt of his sword. “I am a bit out of practice.” He murmured. 

 

“It brings out my eyes.” Selena mused and spun on her heel to face Cullen. “Do you think you could teach me?” 

 

“I, uh, I suppose I could.” 

 

******

 

Cassandra marched into the Inquisitor’s chambers, though her palms grew clammy. There couldn’t be a council meeting without the Inquisitor or the Commander. She silently hoped they wouldn’t be together, but fate loved throwing her into awkward situations. She had heard the Inquisitor giggling as she entered the threshold and all she could do was prepare for the worst.

 

However, when Cassandra laid her eyes on the Inquisitor and the Commander on the bed, she gaped in shock.They weren’t naked or even in a suggestive position, but Cassandra wondered if she would’ve preferred that. Selena had her hair in multiple pigtails, there were at least ten ribbons, but the image of Cullen having little pink bows in his hair would be forever burned into Cassandra’s memory. The couple snapped their attention from each other towards Cassandra. 

 

Cullen turned a magnificent shade of deep crimson as he began pulling out each ribbon. All the while, Selena collapsed onto her bed, laughing so hard that she was rubbing the tears out of her eyes. 

 

“We’re,” Cassandra struggled not to grin too widely. “We’re conducting a council meeting and we’ll need both of you there.” She let a chuckle slip out; the Inquisitor’s laughter was too contagious. “I’ll give you some time to compose yourselves.” She shook her head as she left the Inquisitor’s chambers. 

 

Cullen stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “I won’t be living that one down.” He grumbled and watched Selena shake with silent giggles as she got off of the bed. “I’ve never heard you laugh that hard before.” He began helping her undo all the ribbons in her hair. 

 

“That makes two of us.” Selena grinned and reached up to pull a lingering pink ribbon off of Cullen’s head. “Cassandra was obviously stunned by your beauty, fair maiden.” She winked after receiving a glare from Cullen. 

 

“I can’t believe you picked pink ribbons,” Cullen muttered as he removed the final bow from Selena’s hair. “It’s obvious that red goes better with my skin tone.” He smirked.

 

Selena erupted into another giggling fit. “I’ll remember for next time.” She grabbed Cullen’s hand and they both walked out of the chambers together. Leaving the pile of ribbons behind. 


	6. Falling Asleep in an Unusual Spot (Selena Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford)

The sun was nearly gone and most of Skyhold’s residents had retired to their quarters. This left the Inquisitor and the Commander alone in the courtyard, sitting side by side on one of the stone benches. Selena had returned late after sealing all the Rifts in the Hinterlands. Her left arm bore an unusual pain; it was like there was a hive of bees in between the sinew, just under her skin. She only told Cullen that it ached a little, which prompted him to hold her hand. 

When the courtyard was bustling with people, they talked business, but now in the quiet evening, they discussed personal matters. 

 

“Sometimes I catch myself in a memory every time the sun sets.” Cullen spoke softly. “I always have the same one too; back when I was in the Chantry, we’d have to do a communal service.” He saw Selena raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Uh, it was a service reminding us why we chose the Templar life. For the greater good. Anyway, we’d always start with some hymns.” 

 

“Songs?” Selena sat up straighter and she smiled. “You’re telling me you can sing?” 

 

Cullen cleared his throat. “I guess you can say that.” He looked up at the pale purple sky. “It has been ages though.” 

 

“I’d like to hear you sing.” Selena murmured and pulled her hand out of Cullen’s grip. Instead, she lifted his right arm and put it around her shoulders. She nestled against his warm body and sighed wistfully. 

 

“Perhaps,” Cullen’s train of thought drifted when he felt Selena’s arms wrap around him. “Comfortable?” He got a soft hum in response and he tentatively allowed his arm to rest against Selena’s body. 

 

A few silent moments passed and Selena’s breathing became deeper. 

 

“Selena,” Cullen muttered and lightly shook her. “Are you falling asleep?”

 

Selena yawned and shook her head. “No, just resting my eyes.” She readjusted herself before sinking back into the crook of Cullen’s arm. 

 

“Wouldn’t a bed be more comfortable?” He hitched his breath when Selena idly rubbed his right thigh. 

 

“You’re more comfortable.” She murmured and resumed her hold around his torso.

 

Paralyzed by her confident strokes along his thigh, Cullen didn’t say a word in response. Not even when Selena’s breaths grew heavier and her grip around him weakened. He kept his gaze on the blackening sky until he realized that the blackness was his own eyelids closing. Her warmth melded with his own until it felt like an oddity to be apart from each other.

 

Both fell asleep underneath the blanket of nightfall. 

 

***********

 

Dorian, The Iron Bull, and Cole simultaneously stopped speaking once they stumbled across quite a sight. Selena and Cullen had fallen asleep on one of the stone benches in the courtyard. They knew the couple must’ve been out of it because they hardly twitched when the trio stepped closer. 

 

“Now that’s a sight.” Dorian whispered and nudged The Iron Bull. “What say you? Shall we be miscreants?” 

 

The Iron Bull snorted softly and crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you seen the Boss pissed? You have seen her behead countless men for looking at her wrong?” 

 

“Ah, good point.” Dorian stroked his mustache. “Besides, they do look adorable. I believe they’re even drooling in unison.” 

 

“Hearts beating together. I have found you. We are wounded but we will carry each other. Please never let this warmth fade.” Cole blurted, causing the other two to jump in shock. 

 

The Iron Bull and Dorian put a hand over Cole’s mouth, Cole slapped his own hand on top of theirs. The only sound hanging in the air was the faintest hooting of an owl. They stood frozen, watching the Inquisitor and her Commander dozing in peace. Eventually, their shoulders sagged with relief. 

 

“You have a three second head start.” Selena growled and popped open a single, bloodshot eye. 

 

The three companions released shouts that could only be described as “prepubescent screeches” and scattered in different directions. However, Selena didn’t budge, instead she shut her eye and huffed. Cullen mumbled something incoherent, though it sounded alarmed. With a drowsy smirk, Selena massaged his right thigh before hugging him tightly. 

 

They breathed as one under the stars. 


	7. Selena Lavellan Scratching Cullen's Back

Selena had never seen such a grimace on Cullen’s face before. After the war table meeting, she walked in pace by his side. “Something bothering you, Commander?” She smirked when he perked up.

 

“What would make you say that?” He held the door open and allowed Selena to walk through first. 

 

She began walking backwards, enjoying the evident concern etched on Cullen’s face. “Your scowl was so deep, there were trenches on your forehead.” She chuckled when the Commander rolled his eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry to have concerned you, Inquisitor, but it’s nothing.” Cullen noted that Selena halted, but he kept walking up to her. He stopped once there was at least an inch of space between them. 

 

“Right and I’m a duchess.” Selena retorted. 

 

Cullen grabbed her hands and smiled. “You’re that concerned, Selena?” 

 

The Inquisitor kept her yellow eyes locked on Cullen’s face, knowing she didn’t have to say it. 

 

“Well, if you must know, I’ve had the worst itch on my back and I can’t scratch it.” The Commander watched as Selena’s face transformed from stoic to a huge grin. 

 

“Are you being serious, Cullen?” Selena laughed when he nodded and then she shook her head. “Must be an awful itch to make you scowl that much.” She squeezed Cullen’s hands before leading him along. “I know the perfect cure for that.” She sang. 

 

“You don’t have to—”

 

“Cullen, I insist.” Selena released his hands and turned around. Without looking behind her, Selena held out her right hand. She only had to wait a few seconds before Cullen gently grabbed her hand. 

 

* * *

 

They were in her quarters, on her bed, which probably was the cause of the Commander’s silence. She even turned her back on him so he could undress and even then he fumbled. Selena had him sit on the edge of the bed, while she knelt behind him. Cullen was stripped down to basic clothes now and she was very pleased with the view. 

 

“You should have your armor off more often, Cullen.” Selena purred behind him and enjoyed watching the back of his neck turn red. 

 

“As much as it would please you, I can’t risk it. One should always be prepared for attack.” Cullen answered softly and grabbed his knees. “I won’t fail again.” 

 

Selena watched Cullen’s shoulders sink and she looked at her left arm. ‘ _ Haven. _ ’ Her heart ached when she stared at Cullen’s tense posture. Not wanting him to sink lower, Selena steadied herself and gently blew on the back of his neck. 

The Commander gasped sharply and almost jumped up, but Selena put her hands on his shoulders to hold him down. “Selena, why--” He stopped short when Selena began raking her nails down his back. 

 

Selena grinned when she felt Cullen leaning back more. “Just tell me where, Cullen.” She muttered and moved her hands down.

 

“N-no, higher, between my shoulders.” Cullen rolled his shoulder to emphasize his plight and sighed when he felt the aggravating itch being scraped away.

 

‘ _ Maker, he’s well-built. _ ’ Selena bit her lip and focused on the task at hand. ‘ _ What I wouldn’t give to see him without his clo— _ ’ She paused her train of thought when she heard rapid tapping. Without stopping her clawing motion, Selena leaned to the side and witnessed something that made her sputter into a giggle fit. 

 

Cullen opened his eyes upon hearing Selena giggle and he looked down at his leg. He immediately stopped bouncing it, but the damage was already done. “I wasn’t even aware I was doing that.” He looked over his shoulder and watched as Selena fell over on the bed, laughing. 

 

“You were—you were bouncing your leg like a-a Mabari getting his tummy scratched!” Selena put her hands over her face, though her muffled laughter wasn’t any quieter. 

 

“Oh a Fereldan dog joke, that’s a first.” Cullen said sarcastically and silently cursed how easily he blushed around Selena. He looked straight ahead, burning in embarrassment as Selena’s laughs continued for a few moments more. 

 

Then he felt a pair of slender hands massage his neck and shoulders. He released a shaky sigh and began relaxing. 

 

“I thought it was very cute.” Selena cooed near Cullen’s ear. 

 

Cullen cleared his throat and forced himself to stand up. As much as he wanted to— _ Maker knew how much he wanted _ —Cullen also knew there was at least one of Leliana’s agents waiting for him at his office. He refused to look at Selena when he began putting back on his armor. He sensed the atmosphere cooling with their mutual disappointment. But there was work to be done. 

 

Selena walked up to Cullen and helped him with a couple straps. She didn’t look up at him, since she was ashamed of her thoughts at the moment. When she finished helping, she was rewarded with an embrace. 

 

“Thank you, Selena.” Cullen murmured. 

 

“Anytime, Cullen.” Selena squeezed him once before slipping out of his arms. 

 

She watched him leave and her chambers became oppressive; it was too open and too cold whenever she was alone. Not wanting her mind to wander into the dark depths, Selena thought back to Cullen’s leg and began giggling. 

 

“I love h—dogs.” Selena felt her heart flutter at the verbal flub and she shook her head. 


	8. Selena Lavellan and Cullen Rutherford Slow Dancing

Selena blinked away tears of frustration after staring at her bedroom ceiling for three hours. She did everything Cassandra and Josephine advised to do for insomnia. She drank calming tea, took a calming hot bath, and doused any man-made light. This was the third night she was fighting to fall asleep. Selena couldn’t shake off the crushing pressure behind her eyes.

 

There was no point lying in bed, so Selena heaved a deep sigh and sat up. The stillness made Selena uneasy and a quiet stroll around Skyhold in the moonlight sounded heavenly. She looked down at her large, light blue tunic that came to her knees and her black leggings and nodded. It would be fine to stroll about in these clothes, because who else would be awake? She grabbed a pair of soft leather shoes next to her bed and slipped them on. 

 

* * *

 

 

The lines on the map were blurring enough that Cullen mistook Orlais to be Ferelden. It was time for bed several hours ago, but he had to check strategies one last time. Leliana and Josephine practically shoved him out of the War Council room so that he could sleep. But after a couple hours of tossing in his bed, Cullen came back, because he had to go over the plans one last time. They couldn’t come to terms that the commander’s mind was always turning, always thinking up scenarios, always tensing at the possibility of having a flawed plan and losing lives because of it. What they didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them at least, though his eyes felt like they were bleeding. 

 

Cullen put out the candle and rubbed his eyes, feeling the immense tension in his neck. There was a specific reason this time for all these late nights. The Inquisitor was appearing more fatigued every time he saw her and the past three days, she hadn’t even gone to see him. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness, which wasn’t hard since the moonlight beamed into the room. 

 

He scoffed at himself; what was he, seventeen again? The Inquisitor had her duties and he had his, so he shouldn’t feel disappointed in not seeing her for a few days. Still, it worried him that her eyes became duller and her smile vanished. Despite pouring over the map for hours, Cullen didn’t feel relaxed. Old comrades and past acquaintances told him it made no sense; if he was tired, that meant he could sleep. It was complicated for them to understand, so often he suffered in silence. 

 

Perhaps the walk from the War Council room to his quarters would be exhausting enough for him to fall asleep. He scoffed at the idea as he headed out of the room. It never worked before, why would it work tonigh--

 

Cullen stopped mid stride when he caught movement over by the throne. He tensed, silently cursing at his carelessness; he wasn’t wearing his armor. The pain in his neck disappeared now that his adrenaline was ramping up. There were supposed to be guards by the throne and Cullen knew they wouldn’t have moved unless someone of higher rank ordered them to leave. He cautiously stepped closer and recognized the figure slowly orbiting the throne. 

 

And she was humming to herself.

 

* * *

 

 

Selena was humming a melody she heard at the Winter Palace when she heard footsteps. She choked when she saw that it was Cullen. “G-good evening.” 

 

“Did you drop something?” He teased.

 

The Inquisitor chuckled. “Yes, my bag of sand.” She watched Cullen trying to connect the dots. “It was something my father would say.” Selena wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she wasn’t in her sleeping attire; she felt naked. 

 

“You can’t sleep either?” Cullen murmured.

 

Selena wearily nodded and noted that Cullen looked a little haggard himself. But still excruciatingly handsome. “Going on three nights.” She answered softly and admired the armorless Commander. She watched him approach her tentatively and smiled when he kept his eyes averted. 

 

It was a struggle for Cullen not to gawk at the Inquisitor, even with bedhead and an oversized tunic, she looked gorgeous. He wondered how she’d look in his tunic. Cullen looked over at the throne, unable to stare at Selena any longer; she may be sleep-deprived, but there was that slim chance she could read him. The silence was thickening between them, when suddenly Cullen remembered that she was humming a familiar tune earlier.

 

“That song you were humming, was that from the Winter Palace?” Cullen glanced at Selena and saw her grin sheepishly.

 

“I was hoping you didn’t notice.” Selena mumbled and shrugged. “That music was annoyingly catchy and,” She paused, waiting for Cullen to meet her eyes. “It reminded me of some good memories.”

 

“Couldn’t be of my sad attempt at dancing.” Cullen replied quietly.

 

Selena stepped up to Cullen and lightly slapped his left shoulder with the back of her hand. “I enjoyed the dance.” She reassured firmly. 

 

“Is that so? Would you care for a reenactment, then?” Cullen smirked when the Inquisitor gaped. 

 

“I...right now, isn’t it a little late for that?” Selena whispered. 

 

Cullen snorted and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, because we were both preparing to retire for the evening.” 

 

The moonlight that filled the room made everything appear cold and asleep. It alienated Selena. Yet, Cullen looked warm and she could’ve sworn that he was giving off his own light. Her father once told her that her mother gave off that type of glow. One didn’t have to be a mage in order to have a strong aura. Before Selena could start up another conversation, Cullen interrupted her by holding out his right hand. 

 

“May I have this dance?” His tone was sultry and Selena silently cursed at how exhausted she was. 

 

There were a lot more things she’d love to do with him, but it would have to wait for another time. Though that didn’t mean she couldn’t have any fun with this moment. Selena gave the Commander a crooked grin and grabbed his hand in a different way than he expected. When she drew closer to him, she adjusted his body into a position he immediately recognized.

 

“Y-you’re leading?” Cullen rasped after Selena pulled him closer.

 

“That’s surprising?” Selena raised an eyebrow. “You do know I danced with Florianne?” She chuckled softly when Cullen looked away. “But I prefer you as my dance partner.” She reassured huskily. 

 

Taking advantage of Cullen’s flustered state, Selena began leading the dance. She snorted as Cullen staggered and nearly stepped on her feet. A string of whispered apologies wafted in the small space between them, underneath the soft shuffling of their feet. Selena was too weary to voice reassurances, so she merely pressed up against Cullen, waited for his sharp gasp, and continued leading him along. 

 

Selena could still feel how tense Cullen was by how he moved, so she began humming the song from her memories. Slowly, Cullen began relaxing and soon they found the perfect rhythm together. The couple orbited the throne at a lazy pace, Selena’s humming accenting every careful step. With each rotation, they moved slower and slower, but the moment Cullen started humming along, Selena stopped.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin it.” Cullen whispered, his face flushed. 

 

“N-no, you didn’t ruin it.” Selena muttered and put one of Cullen’s hands on her hip. “I would like for you to do something for me.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“You,” Selena felt heat spreading out from her abdomen and up towards her chest. “Can you lead and...and keep humming?” She cringed at how strained her voice came out. 

 

Not another word was spoken, which made Selena uneasy at first, but a sigh of relief left her when Cullen pulled her into his arms. The way he held her, wasn’t the formal way of dancing, but Selena didn’t mind. She held her breath when Cullen leaned close to her ear and began humming. 

  
The couple didn’t dance around the throne, rather they remained in one spot, gently swaying, both of them too afraid to admit that they were being lulled to sleep.  


	9. Varric reacting to Hawke crying about something

He had seen some bad breakdowns in his lifetime, but Varric struggled swallowing down the lump in his throat when he walked into this one. He should’ve stopped by a couple days sooner, when nobody on the streets saw the Champion walking around for a while. Maybe he could’ve cut Hawke off, dragged her to the Hanged Man for some drinks, let her vent some more. 

 

Guilt sank into him, made his shoulders heavy and he tried desperately to shake off the memories of those first few nights after killing Bartrand. Varric kept quiet when Hawke grabbed the mixing bowl and flung it across the kitchen. The bowl shattered and flour sprayed everywhere along with some dark brown liquid splattering against the wall. He took one cautious step forward, remembering well that adequate distance was the key. 

 

What caught Varric off guard was Hawke’s sudden collapse to the floor and the deep wailing that erupted from her. It wasn’t just the bowl that shattered. He kept his feet planted, years of caring for his mother subconsciously seeping out from his brain, to his legs. Hawke wasn’t his mother though, she wasn’t even considered the mother of the group, that was Aveline’s job. Still, all those years that Hawke cared for others, despite her own troubles, and now she was crumbling under the weight. 

 

Hawke sat back, easing her weight off of her knees, though fat tears continued rolling down her reddened face. She snapped to attention when she heard Varric inhale sharply. Shame sank into the pit of her stomach; the great and mighty Champion who was technically the Viscount now, sobbing like a child. In front of her best friend, her trusty dwarf, someone whom she admired and respected. She worked so hard for so many years to avoid showing any of her companions that she cried too. More often than she’d like to admit.

 

The two old friends stared at each other for what seemed like ages. Tears still slid from the corners of Hawke’s eyes and she broke eye contact to stare at the floor. She was supposed to be better than this, stronger than all of this. Fresh, hot tears dribbled off of her chin and softly smacked the floor. 

 

Varric took a few more steps more and began doing what he did best. “You know, I once knew a fellow who worked at the Blooming Rose. He loved women so much, he’d never refuse them, no matter how many demanded his services. One night, over fifty women booked him and while the owner advised him to cancel some of these appointments, he refused. So he serviced and pleased until about the twentieth lady. He was exhausted, but he was so adamant about pleasing women that he threw his whole body into every thrust. Well, he gave such a huge thrust, he gained a severe hernia. Some say the Blooming Rose shook from his scream.” He smirked from Hawke’s surprised expression; it was better than her downcast eyes. “He was never the same since. Needless to say, he couldn’t work anymore and last I heard, he moved to Orlais to hide from his shame.”

 

“And,” Hawke sniffled and rubbed her eyes. “What’s the moral of the story?” Her voice was hoarse and foreign to her ears. 

 

The usually wise-cracking dwarf walked up to Hawke, pulled out a handkerchief, and gently wiped her face, his smirk gone. “If you obsess over pleasing everyone, making sure they’re happy and denounce your own happiness, you can hurt yourself beyond repair.” Varric spoke in a low tone that Hawke rarely heard. “What’s hurting you, Hawke?” 

 

The Champion, the newly appointed Viscount, clenched her jaw and furrowed her brows, struggling to not break down again. But Varric’s warm hand remained on her face and the gesture was enough to cause a sob to bubble out. She put a hand over Varric’s and pressed it hard against her face.

 

“I don’t want this, Varric. Any of this.” Hawke released an audible cry. “This place is empty, hollow without any warmth. People speak of my accomplishments, but I don’t feel the warmth of their praise. All I remember are the faces. The faces of the fallen, my mother,” Hawke let her hand fall as she lowered her head. “This place has become a prison, even my own home, I am overwhelmed. I only wanted to regain my title and keep,” She shook her head. “Keep my family safe.” 

 

Varric tucked away the dampened handkerchief and watched Hawke’s shoulders shake. He bit his inner cheek, feeling her anguish more than she could possibly know. Cautiously, Varric reached out and placed his hand on Hawke’s head. She went rigid under his touch, but when he went to draw back his hand, Hawke maneuvered so that she had her arms wrapped around him.

 

“I’m sorry.” Hawke weeped into Varric’s chest. 

 

They had hugged before, but in happier times, mostly due to heavy alcohol consumption. Hawke always kept it brief and Varric didn’t mind it that way. But this wasn’t so much of a hug, as a desperate cling to sanity, to life. Hawke’s arms were coiled around tightly and her head was pressed up against Varric’s chest, almost making it hard for the dwarf to breathe. 

 

“Nothing to be sorry about, Hawke. Let it out.” Varric reassured quietly and stroked her head a few times. “Maybe,” He sighed deeply, pain swelling in his chest. “Maybe you should get out of Kirkwall.”

 

The only response Varric received was a shaky nod, but there was no further discussion. Perhaps later, in warmer surroundings and after a few drinks. Right now, Varric stood quiet and somber, committing every sound to memory. There would be a time that the people would have to know the truth; that their Champion was human and bled rivers behind closed doors.

 


End file.
